I look at him carefully. “I know. Get home safely,” I say and end the call.
I scroll through my phone to distract myself. Two missed calls and a text from Daniel. I don’t want to talk to anyone right now, so I decide to just message him.
Daniel:
Hi, call me back when you’re done!????
I feel a pang of guilt because he is always so caring and I don’t want to fake being okay because I’m really not. Plus, he doesn’t like it when I lie. I wouldn’t either, so I take a deep breath and message back.
Will call you later.????
Almost immediately after I hit send, my phone pings again. Guess he was waiting for myreply.
Daniel:
You alright?
Even if I wanted to, I can’t hide anything from him. He can read me well and he will pester me until I tell him what is going on. And honestly, I just feel I am making a big deal out of this. I will feel better soon, I am sure.
Just family stuff.
Daniel:
You want to talk? Should I come over?
No, there’s no need for that!
I reply quickly, not wanting him to come all the way here for me to complain about something so trivial. I can feel myself being irritable again. I just need some time alone to calm down.
I throw my phone on the bed and take out the clothes I had kept aside to wash from the cupboard. I take another sip of my coffee.
Why is it that every time I offer a suggestion, it’s met with hesitation or outright dismissal? I can’t help but feel that no matter how valid my ideas are, they’re always overshadowed by Arnav’s, even if his suggestions aren’t necessarily better. I put all the clothes in a basket and walk toward the washing machine, picking up my phone on the way.
Arnav has always been the golden child, the one who’s naturally good at everything. I know he’s smart and talented,but sometimes it feels like my efforts are dismissed just because he’s a little better at something or because he’s more experienced. It’s not that my parents ever compare us directly, but I can see it in their behavior. They trust his judgment more and assume his ideas are more sound. And that hurts.
My phone pings again, jolting me from my thoughts. It’s Daniel.
Daniel:
I was just being polite.
I am standing outside your door.
Open up, baby!
“What?” I exclaim out loud, my jaw dropping in disbelief. I quickly run to the door and look through the peephole to see Daniel standing outside. He’s looking at his phone.
I swing open the door. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you not to come over.”
His head snaps up from the phone and he beams at me. “Now, is that any way to greet your boyfriend, Firecracker?” he says, sliding his hand around my waist. He pulls me closer to him. I want to protest—I’m not in the mood for this—but his warmth and familiar scent engulf me, and immediately, I feel a sense of comfort. He’s wearing that stupid charming smile, and I feel a tug at the corner of my lips, too.
“Ugh, fine.” I grumble, though my resistance is waning as I lean into him. I close the door behind him and let out a heavy sigh. “You just had to come all the way here, didn’t you?”
“Wouldn’t be much of a boyfriend if I didn’t, would I?” he says softly, brushing a stray hair from my face. “You soundeddown, so I had to check in on you.”
I push him away and walk to the washing machine. I can hear him follow me. I start sorting through the clothes. He leans against the doorframe, watching me with a concerned expression. I feel the weight of his gaze and the warmth of his presence, and it’s oddly comforting, even if I’m trying to push him away.
“It was nothing. I am fine. I don’t want to talk about it,” I say, trying to sound casual as I load the clothes into the machine.
